


The Aviary

by animesiren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animesiren/pseuds/animesiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has been far behind Harry for years, but he finds that he can't really be at peace with it until he does one more tribute to the world: rescue Albus Dumbledore's oldest living friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aviary

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be something that explored Harry's connection between his past and his present.

The merry jiggling of the shop’s door knocker echoed as Harry closed the door behind him. It was clean aired inside the small store, but the interior was bathed in shadows, and the outer windows had been frosted over so that no one could see in.

 

Harry’s emerald eyes flashed as he took a cursory step into the shop. He had spent the better part of an hour scaling the Norwegian countryside for this store, an unnamed, unknown, but most important store. He had to hurry or he’d be late getting back home, Ginny would scald him alive if he missed Al’s recital.

 

Harry began to walk further into the store, but stopped when his eyes widened in confusion. He was _certain_ that this store was _the_ store. But there seemed to be nothing more than magical creature memorabilia stacked in haphazard piles. Definitely not what he came for.

 

“Bullocks,” he muttered. He brushed a frustrated hand through his hair, his scar sneeringly visible for just one moment. Then he turned, intent to make his way out of the shop, accepting defeat as he did so.

 

“Young sir!” A wheezing voice shouted out across the store and quick, unsteady footsteps began to hurry towards Harry. As Harry turned towards the voice the man scooted around a corner and into his view.

 

“How can I be of assistance today?” The man before Harry was balding and potbellied, and had a mustache larger than his face. Long lavender robes clung to his frame, and he had a few cracker crumbs stuck to his collar.

 

“Sorry,” said Harry slowly. His eyes narrowed, his sources had said that the owner was British, and not Norwegian, they had also described his physical details. The man in front of him matched them to a tee, but the shop did not. “I think I’m in the wrong place.”

 

“Oh!” the man clapped his hands together “A proper Englishman, I don’t get many here, more local than international you see.”

 

The man hurried forward to grab at Harry’s hand, which he acquiesced in a polite, albeit grudging, manner. It was in his quick clasp of Harry’s hands that the man’s eyes froze on his face.

 

“M-Mr. Potter!” He stuttered, his voice rising an octave “It is an honor! How can my humble shop service you?”

 

Harry sighed, taking his hand back “Like I said I think I’m in the wrong shop, but thanks.”

 

“No, no,” The balding gentleman shook his head; his eye twinkled with a scheming delight. “I am Reg Flaggerson, and I shan’t let you leave until I can help you find what you need. What was it that you were after?”

 

Harry frowned; his auror robes only moved the slightest when he laid his hand against his right pocket, checking to make sure his wand was still safely inside. “Well…” Harry said “I’m looking for a bird, I suppose.”

 

“Oh,” Reg said, a low rumble of amusement shifting through his body “You’re not in the wrong place, Mr. Potter, I assure you. I have what you need.”

 

“Do you?” asked Harry, and then quieter to himself “That’s a right shame.”

 

“Follow me!” Reg exclaimed, already trotting his large gait towards the back of the store.

 

Harry muted his lips, and then shook his head slightly. He always hated when he made that expression, he felt as though he were trying to mimic Aunt Petunia as he did so. Though he snorted when he imaged what her horror would be at the sight of the man and his odd shop.

 

“Exactly where are we going?’ asked Harry as they reached the back of the shop.

 

Mr. Flaggerson grinned, and simply responded “Please, this way.”

 

The next moment Mr. Flaggerson’s great gait disappeared right through the wall, and with only a moment’s hesitation Harry wearily slipped through as well. He was well used to magic tricks such as Mr. Flaggerson’s by that point; however he was nervous about falling into a pit of Dragons or a muted Chimera den on the other side. It had happened once or twice.

 

Harry looked up once he felt the wall was behind him and couldn’t contain the low gasp that leaked its way from his lips.

 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Reg was right pleased with himself, grinning from ear to ear as he watched Harry’s eyes travel around the room.

 

“Magnificent,” Harry agreed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and looking down the line of majestic birds before him.

 

“Welcome to Flaggerson Aviary!” Reg exclaimed, spreading his arms “Finest selections of Phoenix specimen anywhere in the world!”

 

Harry stayed rooted to his spot, and Reg hurried forward, his excitement tangible and his brow beginning to moisten.

 

“What are you after today, sir?” He asked, continuing on without a comment from the black haired man. “I have a few guaranteed to reincarnate within a wizarding lifespan, quite in demand those are.”

 

“No,” Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Ah,” Mr. Flaggerson nervously turned back to his birds “Well, I have a few younger ones I do. Considered cuter by most women, a young girly you’d be looking to fetch one for?”

 

“No,” Harry’s voice was firmer this time.

 

“Oh,” Reg’s grin turned downwards and he eyed Harry in a more considering way. He became nervous, and his gaze found the crest on Harry’s chest. “You’d not be here on Ministry business?”

 

Harry took his eyes off the phoenix he had been staring at and finally looked at the man “I don’t work in imports, Mr. Flaggerson.”

 

“Of course,” Flaggerson laughed nervously. “Then perhaps you’d like to just look around for yourself?”

 

As if those were the words that Harry had been waiting to hear he took several quick strides forward, his eyes finding his quarry once more.

 

Harry paused before the bird, reaching a hand outwards.

 

“Mr. Potter—I wouldn’t! It takes quite a bit of magic to keep them subjugated…” Reg’s voice died out though as Harry’s hand made quiet contact with the bird’s gorgeous plumage.

 

“Hello,” Harry smiled, the onyx eyes of the bird staring very seriously into his own. “Fawkes.”

 

The bird let out a low mournful note and Harry’s smile dropped from his face, his hand steadying on one wing. “I know, Fawkes.” he murmured, “I’m sorry he captured you, I came as soon as I could.”

 

Harry knew that the bird understood him, and he gave a firm tap with his hand before turning to Flaggerson. “I’ll take this one.” Harry’s voice left no room for objection.

 

“Grand,” Reg’s voice was stilted; he began to approach Fawkes “Not in high demand, his kind. I’ll cage him up for you.”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Harry waved a hand off “I’ll take him out free as he deserves to be.”

 

“Mr. Potter,” Reg’s voice was strained “You do realize that he’ll likely fly away as soon as he’s out the door, or sooner even?”

 

“Uncaged,” Harry repeated firmly.

 

Reg looked at him as if he was crazy, but Harry was very obviously not wavering.

 

“Sure,” Reg simply waved his wand, releasing most of the enchantments he had put on the bird.

 

“Why can’t he move?” Harry asked as he stuck out his arm and Fawkes refused to come to it, to move at all.

 

“I don’t release the final enchantments until he’s out of the shop, sir,” Reg explained quickly “They’ll be a residual muggle illusionment spell on the specimen for several hours as well, to, er, prevent him from being seen leaving the shop.”

 

Harry frowned, “Take all the ones off that you can.”

 

“But sir!” Reg protested loudly, “That’s unheard of.”

 

Harry didn’t waver, and after much more convoluted spell un-casting, Fawkes leapt out and onto Harry’s arm.  Mr. Flaggerson gave him a stunned look.

 

After a few moments Harry stared at the older man in quiet expectation. Harry radiated a relieved feeling; it seemed he was peaceful to finally have Fawkes within his custody.

 

“Ah, yes…payment.” Reg sighed, defeated. Those bloody birds and the trouble they caused him. “A special price for you, sir.”

 

Harry wanted to snort. It was likely the ‘special’ price would actually be the ‘double’ price.

 

“Name it,” Harry breathed out. He’d empty every vault he owned.

 

Reg licked hip lips, and then turned his beady eyes to Harry “Eight hundred thousand galleons.”

 

Harry nodded, resolute. Gin was going to be livid. That’d empty their vault, their savings, and dip into his parent’s old account. “Fine, yes. I’ll give you the appropriate routing numbers.”

 

Reg gave a giddy little jump. “Why thank you sir! I do appreciate fine business.”

 

“I’m sure,” Harry murmured the agreement, not taking his gaze away from Fawkes.

 

**X-_X-_X**

 

Harry heard the door close behind him and sighed. He took one more deep breath, and then apparated instantly. When he reappeared in the Cornish countryside where he and Ginny had their home he quietly turned to face the shore line, and then began speaking to the bird still gripping his arm.

 

“Fawkes,” he said “It’s been years since he passed.”

 

A great, magnificent tear welled within Fawkes’ eye and Harry shared a small commiserating smile.

 

“I’m sorry that that man thought he could capture you, I know that you’ve been free since then,” a small tremor caught in Harry’s throat.

 

It had been a humongous shock to Harry when a fellow auror had brought a member of the Magical Law Enforcement into his office for a consult on a case. A man was poaching phoenixes into captivity and selling them on the black market. Harry had been even more shocked when a rare photo had caught the man smuggling Fawkes into his shop. Harry had been certain it was Fawkes.

 

He hadn’t seen the bird since Professor Dumbledore’s death, and Harry mourned the fact that the great creature, the embodiment of freedom, had been captured to be sold as someone’s _pet_.

 

“Well,” the memory of Fawkes lifting Harry, Ginny, Ron, and an addled Gilderoy Lockhart out of the Chamber of Secrets flashed before his eyes, “Here, you’re free now.”

 

Harry lifted his arm up, thrusting a bit into the afternoon sunlight, but Fawkes and his great mantle did nothing more but cling to his arm. Harry winced slightly as the bird’s talons dug into his robes and then into his arm.

 

“You can go back to wherever you were before you got captured,” Harry told him. His glasses caught the afternoon sunlight and Harry tried to lift Fawkes into the air again. “C’mon,” he grunted.

 

Fawkes let stream a quick melody, a few sharp notes. It was almost like a command, and finally Harry paused, looking at Fawkes and considering him.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly. Harry watched Fawkes blink fire glistened eyebrows before speaking again.

 

“Do you want to stay here, Fawkes? Do you want to make this your home?”

 

Fawkes’ talons dug another millimeter into Harry’s arm and he had his answer.

 

“Well then,” Harry couldn’t help the ridiculous smile from blossoming onto his face. Fawkes really wanted to stay with him, as he had stayed with Dumbledore?

 

All Harry had sought to do was give Dumbledore, Dumbledore’s memory, and Fawkes the well-deserved respect of releasing a creature back into the freedom it rightly deserved.

 

“C’mon then,” Harry began to make his way back up the walk, he could hear his children’s voices from where they were, their tones carried by the sea air. “Let’s reintroduce you to Gin, yeah?”

 

Fawkes released a high, clear note, and leapt in the air to make large swooping circles above Harry’s head. As they both made their way to the Potter home, one returning, and one finding new solace, Fawkes sang a melody that he hadn’t sung in nearly two decades.

**Author's Note:**

> According to J.K. Rowling, Fawkes' price is equal to 4 Million GBP, which is about 6.3 Million USD.


End file.
